For tragic reasons, for the past week I kept hearing “This is how / what he would have wanted it”, “He died happy, doing something he love”, “he would have hated this”, “He would have loved that”.

More often than not, when someone close to us dies we’re pretty dead on sure what / how he / she would have wanted his / her death to be treated. Or do we really?

So today I wanted to write about how I would want the Frankelstache aftermath to look like, and on the way make some clarifications bout how, why and were I want to be when it’s time for me to send myself back to god knows where.

1st, I really want people to get drunk and feast like there’s no tomorrow. Heck, I’ll even put some money aside in my will to sponsor my own funeral and assure it’s catered with some mouthwatering pork ribs, and screw all of my religious Jew / Muslim friends. Hopefully they’ll be too drunk to say ‘no’ anyhow.
2nd, I don’t want anyone to write anything on my Facebook wall once I’ve departed. If we were Facebook friends, then there’s an 80% we’re not really friends anyhow, so do us all a favor and save your typing fingers for some quality porn sites.
3rd, in terms of cause / location, I always said that I’d prefer saying my farewells after either a good steak, a wonderful dump or an epic intercourse session. The thing is, perishing during a meal means choking, which isn’t fun based on all the fish I’ve slaughtered when I was young. Dying in the restroom could be very messy not to mention smelly, and dropping while banging could leave The Woman I Love pretty traumatized, which isn’t a nice thing to do to her lovely heart.
I guess I need to think about this a tad more before I make a decision.

4th, I want to die knowing I’ve chased my dreams and have achieved them. Want to go knowing I chose life, and that I steered the Frankelstache ship all the way through, even if it crashed once, twice or twelve times. I take no consolation in hearing that those who die young were full of potential, up-and-coming and ready to take over the world. Fuck that shit. Potential is what people say you have when they don’t want to tell you that right now, you suck. So lastly, I want to die old and be buried back home, at the Kibbutz.

I wish everyone that reads this (including myself) decades of health and love.

So it turns out Sammy Sosa used steroids, too.
OMFG!! I didn’t see it coming!! Of all people…in all sports….Why, Sammy, why?!?!??!

K, so let’s be straightforward for a second. This is why you Americans are deemed dumb and naïve in the eyes of the rest of the world. Roids were not tested, nor banned until the mid 2000’s, yet all these idiotic baseball fans (including some idiotic congress members) act as if their world just disintegrated like it was Brittney Spears’ panties. “How dare he?!” they ask in angst, trying to appear shocked and baffled by this unexpected controversy.

Baseball players cheat. All of them. Get over it already. This sport is a joke and your obsession with numbers and records and statistic is absurd, too – especially since baseball is a big rigged, fake joke. I’m tired of it all. Tired of hearing about it on espn. Tired of reading about it. Tired.

Turning against your former baseball heroes and blaming them for doing something completely legal at the time won’t numb the pain of not becoming a professional athlete yourself. Grow up already.

Also please cease from writing those annoying Facebook / Twitter status updates. None of you have any friends.